


of every love that could have been

by meretricula



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Angst, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 03:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meretricula/pseuds/meretricula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rafa spends the evening before Christmas Eve with his sister and his girlfriend, thinks about his future and calls Roger to talk things through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	of every love that could have been

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rilla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rilla/gifts).



"Maybe we should have a baby," Rafa said thoughtfully from his place on the floor of his living room, sprawled out in front of the television. Maribel, who was sitting on the couch behind him, kicked him and snorted with laughter. It was a very unladylike sound, but whenever he told her so, she always told him he should listen to himself sometimes, which was obviously not a fair comparison. _Rafa_ wasn't supposed to be ladylike.

"Maybe you should figure out how to keep a baby in _your_ stomach for nine months before you bring it up with Xisca," she advised him, and then they both screamed in triumph when Real Madrid scored onscreen. It was a taped match, but Rafa hadn't seen it before; Maribel recorded the games for him if she was home and he was on tour, so they could watch them together later.

"What's he bringing up with me?" Xisca asked, returning from the kitchen with a bowl of chips and a diet Coke. She sat cross-legged beside Rafa and slapped his hand when he reached for the soda. "That's _mine_, you pig."

"Rafa thinks you should get pregnant," Maribel said, the little traitor.

Xisca rolled her eyes. "You know, you don't have to do _everything_ Roger Federer does, Rafa."

"And if you do, maybe you should try winning the US Open first," Maribel giggled.

"It has nothing to do with Roger!" Rafa protested. "I just was thinking, I want to have a baby someday."

"If I get pregnant now, your grandmother starts asking when will we get married, my parents start asking when will we get married, the whole damn island except your uncle Toni starts asking when will we get married. Thanks, but no." Xisca smiled and kissed him quickly to take the sting out of her words. "I love you, but I have other things I want to do right now."

"Everyone except uncle Toni has been asking when you're going to get married for years," Maribel pointed out, switching sides without a qualm.

"If he knocks me up, they'll ask me to my face," Xisca said darkly. "At least now they have the decency to do it behind my back."

"If anyone ever asks me, I'll punch them for you," Maribel volunteered loyally, slipping off the couch to give Xisca a hug. Rafa stared at the television, feeling uncomfortable; people would always gossip about him, and it wasn't something he knew how to fix, even if it made Xisca unhappy. Luckily, before he could be expected to say anything Maribel's phone buzzed, and she jumped up like she had a bee under her shirt. "It's Tomeu, I'll go talk to him in my room," she said, and hurried out of the living room. "Hi, baby," Rafa heard her say, before she shut her door.

She'd been dating Tomeu for three years now - long enough that their grandparents asked about when she was going to get married, too, so at least it wasn't just Rafa and Xisca in the line of fire. She always said she didn't want to move in with Tomeu because he still lived with his mother, but it wasn't a real excuse, of course; Rafa would have bought her any house she wanted. It wasn't like he didn't have enough money, and he liked giving Maribel things. She didn't want Rafa to be alone in his apartment, that was all, so she wouldn't move out until Xisca moved in. And Xisca didn't want to move in - or have a baby - because she didn't want everyone to ask her when she was going to marry him.

"We can talk about it later," Xisca said suddenly, after they'd been watching the game for a good five minutes in silence, except for the sound of Rafa crunching on potato chips. "It's not - I don't mean, not _ever_. I just mean not now."

"Okay," Rafa said, and shifted so he could rest his head in her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair, absent-mindedly, for the rest of the football match. It was soothing, comfortable, easy. Much like his relationship with Xisca, really. It was nice, but it probably wasn't going to go much further.

Maribel was still shut away in her room when the match ended. Xisca helped Rafa clean up the living room, and they kissed on the couch for a while like they were teenagers again, his hand splayed across her back under her shirt. He could almost stretch his fingers all the way across the narrowest point, at her waist; at moments like these, he forgot that Xisca played dirty at football if she had to in order to win, and never cried at movies like he did, and wasn't afraid of the dark, even when she was a little girl. All he could think of was how small she was, and how fragile it made her seem. The thought of Xisca with a baby inside her, his baby, made her seem paradoxically even smaller and more delicate. Rafa wanted to hold Xisca forever in that moment, protective and tender, loving her and the idea of making a child with her: even then, though, he wasn't sure he wanted to marry her.

There was no way they were going to have sex on the couch, or even in his bed, while Maribel was still in the apartment, and Xisca wanted to sleep at home, so eventually she pulled away, laughing a little, and straightened her shirt and found her coat. "I'll see you on Christmas Day, all right?" she asked, almost anxiously, even though their holiday plans had been set for weeks; they were both going to spend Christmas Eve at home, and then she would come over for Christmas dinner with him and his whole family. Rafa loved Christmas, and being around all his friends and family. They would both be happy again by the time they saw each other. "Tell Maribel I said good night," she added, fussing unnecessarily with the collar of her jacket.

"I'll tell her," Rafa said, bending down for another kiss in the doorway. "Good night, sleep well."

"Bon Nadal, Rafa," she replied, smiling, "I love you," and slipped away without waiting for him to say it back.

Rafa went and changed into his pajamas, trying not to think too hard. Maribel came into his bathroom while he was brushing his teeth, and sat on the edge of the tub as he spat and rinsed. "It's not fair to ask her to be having a baby alone while you're flying around the world playing tennis," Maribel said. "But, I mean. If she changes her mind, I'll help. I'll do whatever she needs. I'll be the world's best aunt." She stood up and wrapped her arms around Rafa from behind, resting her cheek on his back. "You'll be an amazing dad. Whenever it happens, you'll just be so amazing. Good night," she added, standing on tip-toe to smile at him over his shoulder in the mirror. "I'll see you in the morning."

"You too," Rafa managed. He turned around and pressed a minty kiss to her cheek. "I love you, Maribel."

She laughed. "I know. Sleep well." She went to bed, leaving Rafa bemused and still smelling her grapefruit facewash.

He turned off all but one light, crawled between his covers and stared at his cell phone on the bedside table. It was late. It wasn't _that_ late. It was only a text message.

Before he could lose his nerve, he grabbed his phone and texted, _did you plan to have the babies while you were still playing?_ It took much longer than usual to type; he gnawed on his lip for several minutes while deciding what words to use, and whether to spell "you" or just use the letter. He hit _send_ and put the phone back down on the table and pulled his pillow over his head. Maybe he'd text back, maybe he wouldn't. In the meantime, Rafa needed to get some sleep.

Thirty seconds later, his cell phone rang and the pillow went flying off into a corner as Rafa scrambled to answer it. "Hola?"

"Hi, Rafa, um, it's Roger. I just got your message, and - are you okay?"

"Hi, Roger," Rafa said carefully. "I am very well, thank you. How are you?"

"Oh, you know, Christmas with two five-year-olds, it's a little crazy. But, I mean, I'm good. I'm happy, you know?"

It had made Rafa a little angry, at first, that Roger had chosen Mirka and babies and _normal_ over him, but only ever a little, and even that anger had gone away the instant he saw the babies. He had known, then, that Roger had made the choice that would make him happy, which was the best choice, in the end. He was glad that Roger was still happy, really. It made him a tiny bit sad that he was happy without Rafa, but he had had years to get used to it, and he had even learned to be happy without Roger, most of the time. "I am very glad to hear," he said, and smiled.

"Thanks. Raf, I don't want to pry, but what you wrote - is Xisca - "

"Oh! No, she is not pregnant now," Rafa said quickly. "No, is only, I am thinking about it, no? I want babies, someday. I don't know if maybe is better wait until I retire. I think Xisca, she doesn't want to have baby if I will not be here with her."

"Oh." Roger sounded almost strangled. "Well, can't she come with you on tour? She goes to some of your tournaments."

"I don't think - no. She has a life, no? She lives in Mallorca, her family, her friends, Maribel, we belong in Mallorca. If there is a baby - baby belongs in Mallorca, too."

"Sounds like you've made up your mind, then," Roger pointed out.

"Eh. I retire soon, no? Everyone say, I am breaking down, soon my legs fall off. Anyway is boring without you."

"Boring?" Roger laughed. "You lost to Juan Martin in New York. _Again_."

"You watch?" Rafa asked, inexplicably excited.

"Of course I watched, you were playing," Roger said. Rafa bit his lip, and forced himself not to think about what that might mean.

"Is never boring, win tournament," he said instead. "But the tennis is not so fun, no chance I gonna play you in the final."

"I miss you, too," Roger said quietly, and it had been over a year since Roger retired and left tennis - left Rafa - for good, but Rafa could still picture him, pulling on the curl right beside his ear as he tried to think of the right words to say. "I always miss you, Rafa, I can't - I hate thinking about you marrying her, having a baby. It's not fair, I know, I'm sorry."

"We were never gonna be for real," Rafa said, which was only half a lie. They could have been once, maybe; Rafa would have wanted it. He didn't know if Roger would have. But once Mirka was having a baby, it didn't matter what Rafa would have wanted. He knew now that marriage wasn't always forever, and sometimes people who loved each other grew apart, but he never wanted it to happen to some little girl's parents. So that was that. "Rogi, you know - you know it was never real."

"Don't tell me it wasn't real," Roger snapped. "Okay, I kissed you in a thousand different hotel rooms and I fucked you in god knows how many locker-room showers, don't tell me it wasn't real. You _loved me_," he added, with probably unintentional cruelty.

"For sure I love you," Rafa said hopelessly. "It no change nothing. It no make it work. So you marry Mirka, you have little girls, and you retire, and maybe I retire and I have baby and I marry Xisca. Is way things are, no? No change nothing if I love you." He didn't say: this was your fault. He didn't say: you started it. He didn't say: I never asked to love you if you were only going to leave me in the end. "I want to be happy, no? And I want you to be happy. So, you say you are happy, with Mirka and girls and Switzerland and no tennis and no - no me. I am happy you are happy. But I no gonna wait all my life for you. I gonna try to be happy too."

"Rafa," said Roger. "I don't - I want you to be happy, too. I'm sorry."

"Okay. So we both gonna be happy, no? Is okay. Don't be sorry." Rafa lay back on his now pillowless bed and closed his eyes. "So what you think Xisca say, if I ask her to marry me?"

"I think she's an idiot if she says no," Roger said, low and passionate.

"Xisca, very smart, no? Smarter than you," Rafa teased. "Maybe she is idiot if she say yes. How you know, Rogelio?"

"I know." There was a long silence, and then finally Roger said, "Merry Christmas, Rafa."

"Merry Christmas," Rafa replied solemnly. "You will give your girls kiss for me, no? And sleep well."

"Okay, I will."

"Okay, goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Rafa put his phone down on the bedside table and stared up at the ceiling. There was a ring for Xisca hidden in his sock drawer; Maribel had helped him pick it out, three years ago. It had never felt like the right time to ask.

Maybe Xisca would say no. Maybe she would say yes. They could talk about having a baby, maybe, when Rafa retired and he could be with her for everything and Maribel would be the world's best aunt. Maybe none of it would happen, but Rafa was going to do his best to be happy.

**Author's Note:**

> title is from "The Sound of Settling" by Death Cab for Cutie.


End file.
